Movie review: Action-comedy ‘Spy Who Dumped Me’ lacks intelligence

Al Alexander More Content Now

Wednesday

Aug 1, 2018 at 10:28 AMAug 1, 2018 at 10:28 AM

Espionage is the game, but the intelligence is lame in “The Spy Who Dumped Me,” a would-be comedy coupling Mila Kunis and Kate McKinnon as novice Jane Bonds stumbling toward saving the world and armed only with the power of their friendship. Can I get a “bro?” Or, should that be a “sis?” No matter. The objective is merely to prove women can handle the same collection of brutish, double-crossing goons as the fellas. Jason Bourne, you got nothing on us.

That would be a solid message if “Spy,” “Lara Croft” and “Atomic Blonde” hadn’t beaten director Susanna Fogel and her co-writer, David Iseron, to the punch — literally. The only thing they reveal is a knack for taking the craft out of spycraft. Their script, if you want to call it that (it’s really just a collection of perils the gals get in and out of on their way to one of them landing the hunkiest guy), is a constant source of aggravation for fans, such as I, enamored by two of the funniest women on the planet.

It’s only because of the level of talent Kunis and McKinnon bring that you laugh at all. Both deserve far better than the vast collection of diarrhea and fart jokes they’re called upon to recite while hopping across Europe with a crazed Russian gymnast and a couple of “good-guy” spies hot on their heels. About all we learn is that Kunis’ vagina is a great hiding place for a top-secret flash drive. Something you can take heed of, ladies, if like McKinnon’s Morgan and Kunis’ Audrey your spook boyfriend unwittingly drags you into the cloak and dagger of international espionage.

As silly as that sounds, the picture is even sillier; a sort of low-rent “Spy” minus the inspired physical comedy provided by Melissa McCarthy and director Paul Feig. It’s not giving much away to say Kunis and McKinnon survive the ordeal (the movie, not the mission), but the only one likely adding anything from this mixed bag of bits to her highlight reel is the latter. McKinnon, in a word, is brilliant; proving above all doubt that she can take a terrible gag and somehow make it LOL funny. At times, she even raises Kunis’ game, like in the film’s best scene, where their two lifelong buds lovingly run off a list of each other’s worst faults.

Sadly, those moments are rare. The norm is for them to deal in the comedy of genitalia, bodily fluids and social faux pas; none of them clever, few of them funny. The ladies are also inexplicably asked to betray their film’s feminist bent by dragging along a man, Sam Heughan’s MI6 agent Sebastian, to help them save the world. He’s hunky, all right, but he’s like a third wheel impeding the film’s already fragile momentum. If the movie’s goal is to celebrate close female relationships, why have a guy — or, in this case, two guys (Justin Theroux’s secret agent Drew is the other) — come between their quest for empowerment?

It makes no sense. Neither does the plot, which is pure high-concept. It begins with Audrey sulking her way through her 30th birthday party, having just been jettisoned — via text — by Drew. We see him outrunning assassins in Lithuania intercut with scenes of Audrey’s pity party, emceed by Morgan, who always has her girl’s back. Then a few days later, as the pair is setting Drew’s left-behind belongings on fire, he pops in through Audrey’s apartment window with heavily armed goons fast on his tail. Before meeting his fate, he hands Audrey his prized fantasy-football trophy containing information valuable to the enemy. The chase is on, with the ladies hopping from the States to Vienna, to Prague, to Berlin, to Paris and beyond.

Look closely and you might spot Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt frequenting the same locales, which only serves to remind how superior “Mission: Impossible — Fallout” is by comparison in a variation of spy vs. spy. Along the way, the ladies hook up with Heughan’s MI6 agent, Sebastian, his CIA partner, Duffer (“The Daily Show’s” Hasan Minhaj), and their case officer, the icy, stoic Wendy (a wasted Gillian Anderson as the “Beyonce of the government”), who has zero patience for the bumbling amateurs. The rest pretty much writes itself, and probably did given how unimaginative the ensuing plays out.

It’s also shockingly violent (an impaling, shootings and kicks to the head) for a “comedy,” with much of the punishment dished out by Ivanna Sakhno’s Nadedja, a retired Russian gymnast who works as a runway model when not called upon to torture the likes of Audrey and Morgan. Sakhno, despite how poorly her part is written, is actually oddly compelling — until she’s cast aside to make way for the next poorly executed set piece, culminating at — where else? — Cirque du Soleil. This high-flying finale might have been more entertaining if it didn’t arrive late into a movie that should have ended well before its over-inflated, two-hour runtime.

That you even bother to stay with it is testament to the appeal of Kunis and McKinnon, both of whom are more sophisticated than the mindless drivel they’re handed. Same goes for Jane Curtin and Paul Reiser as Morgan’s progressive parents. They’re so hip, Morgan, who gets a kick out of saying Balzac because it’s a homonym for testicles, brags that she can tell them anything, including forwarding Instagramed penis pics to her Mom. Yikes! I told you this was stupid. It’s too bad no one told the filmmakers, who obviously misinterpreted the meaning of counter intelligence.